


Back-Up

by MikeWritesThings



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Background Relationships, Humor, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mutual Pining, Trans Octane | Octavio Silva, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24900760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikeWritesThings/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: “Hey, if we don’t have dates by tomorrow night, let’s just go together,” Octavio suggested.Elliott cocked an eyebrow, feeling dubious. “Yeah, right. If you don’t get a date, I’ll wear a dress.”
Relationships: Mirage | Elliott Witt/Octane | Octavio Silva
Kudos: 45





	Back-Up

A good portion of the Apex Games’ success was the publicity and marketing of their Legends.

Hundreds of years ago, the creators of war-themed board games realized their audience had no emotional attachment to the lifeless soldiers they commanded, and began characterizing the playable heroes with each installment, thus causing consumers to care more about the actions they made in-game, and a spike in merchandise sales.

A similar mindset was applied to the Apex Games—if the audience didn’t care for nor have an attachment to the Legends, they wouldn’t make as much money as they could. So the Legends had opportunities for Town Takeovers, attending interviews and games and highly-marketed events, and in turn, the solar system cared more for the Legends, and emptied their pockets for them more often.

That was what this Valentine’s event was aiming for: good publicity, maybe even dramatic publicity, because the public ate up any hints of romance between celebrities they could find. Elliott had a newspaper clipping theorizing he and Wraith had once been secret lovers pinned to his wall, simply because it was so fucking hilarious, even if it was not true in the slightest.

They found out about the event because Commissioner Blisk had left them all a short note on the common room board, telling them all bluntly:  _ buy a suit, get a date, and show up. Whoever doesn’t show up, I’ll make sure we cut to commercial every time you’re on screen. Good luck in the popularity polls. _

And because the popularity polls alone brought in a fair amount of money, everyone sighed collectively to themselves and thought,  _ Guess I have to. _

Elliott was stuck at a halfway point between excitement and dread. On the one hand, he loved cheesy stuff like this: awful decorations and too many hearts and bad rom-coms. Valentine’s was one of his favorite times of the year. And also  _ least favorite, _ because he got dumped on Valentine’s more often than not.

So yeah, he wanted to go to this stupid dance and drink spiked punch with floating dregs of heart-shaped confetti inside and eat filled red velvet cookies, but he also wanted to curl up by himself in his room and eat a whole pizza. Maybe put on a face-mask for some self care.

But in the end, Elliott decided he better show up, because the fans would eat this shit up, and he couldn’t afford to have his popularity tank.

Now, for the hard part: getting a date.

“Hey there beautiful,” Elliott said, leaning against the counter of his bar and winking at a gorgeous redhead sitting by herself. No ring on her finger, no man by her side, and she was pretty on top of all that. This would be easier than he thought.

“I’m a lesbian,” the woman said before he could get another word out, sipping from her strawberry daiquiri. Elliott’s mouth gaped open like a fish, and a jumble of ‘oops my bad’ and ‘sorry’ mixed up in his throat, and out came a stuttered, 

“G-good for you!”

God, that was embarrassing. Wiping sweat from his brow, he turned away from her and instead eyed the corner of hopefuls with some trepidation. They were here every night, watching him from afar and waiting for their moment to pounce. He had had a few interactions with them already—just last week, one of them had thrown her panties at him, trying to get him to autograph them.

They were a choice, but like, probably his last choice. He didn’t want to ask any one of them just yet. Or ever, really. But he also didn’t want to show up alone.

And speak of the devil, here one came, a blonde taller than him with one of his merchandised shirts tied around her waist. Her nails were at least three inches long and painted purple. A really nice shade of purple. And she had really nice curves too.

But as she sat herself primly in a barstool, he was reminded that she had been one of the girls who had ripped open her shirt and asked him to sign her chest.

“Heard there’s a dance coming up,” Blondie said, and Elliott smiled at her politely, grabbing for a rag to give himself something to do. He started wiping a glass (which was already clean) to look preoccupied, but she didn’t seem to notice. “If you didn’t already have someone, I’d be willin’ to go with you. If you wanted to.”

She batted her eyelashes at him, and flipped her hair over her shoulder, purposely showing off the same chest she had asked him to sign not too long ago.

Elliott didn’t want to go alone, but he also sure as hell didn’t want to go with a fan like this, in case they got the wrong idea and started, like, stalking him or something. And the previous sexual harassment was definitely a deal-breaker. So Elliott set down the clean glass and lied,

“Actually, I’ve already got a date. Sorry! I hope you still tune in, though.”

He winked at her, but she didn’t look all too pleased. One of her friends bounced up to her, red-faced in the presence of Elliott, and said, “Laurel, Giovanni wants to take us out to a club. You finished?”

“You go,” Laurel said coolly, gaze fixed unwaveringly on Elliott. “I’m not done here.”

The other girl looked embarrassed, her round face flushing an even darker red. “But Giovanni—”

“Tell Giovanni I’ll make it up to him later,” Laurel interrupted, holding up a purple-painted finger. “I’m  _ not done _ , Ebba.”

Ebba shot Elliott a look before digging into her heart-shaped purse, pulling out a few bills to pay for her tab. She was one of the calmer hopefuls, content to cheer her friends on from the side whenever they walked up to him, but currently looked ashamed of being associated with Laurel. She quickly bounced away, running out the door with half of the other hopefuls, and Laurel leaned forward onto the bar once again, looking not at all happy.

_ Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned,  _ echoed around in Elliott’s mind as he smiled politely still. A very practiced Customer Service smile. He was good at those.

“I saw you flirt with her over there,” Laurel said, cutting straight to the chase. She gestured to the redhead from before, who was now flirting with another woman on the opposite end of the bar.

“Uh, I didn’t flirt,” Elliott lied once again. “She’s into women, as you can see.”

“It’s not good to lead your fans on,” Laurel said, acting like she hadn’t heard him. “And it’s not good to lie to them, either.”

Elliott frowned. “Since when have I led you on?”

“Maybe you’re telling the truth.” Elliott really dodged a bullet with her. He was pretty sure she was not listening to a word he said. “But I know a liar when I see one. And tomorrow night, Mirage, if I see you don’t have a date. _ Well.  _ I’m certain you know that  _ I _ know your schedule.”

“Are you threatening me?” Elliott asked with as much cheer as he could.  _ Customer Service Voice. Remember the Customer Service Voice. _

Laurel pushed away from the bar without another word, stalking back over to her fellow hopefuls, but she paused once to look back at him, venomous. He was still smiling when she did so, and she gave a scoff before sitting back down.

An hour or so later, Elliott was closing down the bar, ushering the last of his drunk patrons outside. A few of his decoys made sure they got into their cars or a taxi safely, and he dug around in the cash register to pay both his employees for the night. He had the same smile plastered on his face the whole time, and only when he was locking up did he let it fall, now replaced with a look of sheer panic.

_ I need a date! _ ...

* * *

“You’ve got a date, right?” Ajay asked, picking her way across the trash-strewn floor. She always complained that his upbringing was the reason why he didn’t know how to clean, but that wasn’t true. Cleaning was simply boring. She always rolled her eyes every time he told her that, and she rolled her eyes now, seeing him sitting in a pile of his own dirty clothes. “Forget I asked. I doubt you’ve got a date smellin’ like that.”

“I smell fine,” Octavio said back, but lifted his arm to sniff himself when she wasn’t looking anyways. Jeez, he needed a shower. “Do  _ you _ have a date?”

“‘Course I do. Ya think I would be in here bitching if I didn’t?”

“Yeah.”

She grabbed his pillow from his bed and on instinct he stumbled out of his chair, several flashbacks of her trying to suffocate him during high school sleepovers overtaking him. “That’s what I thought.”

“Well, who are you going with?” He asked indignantly from the floor.

“Gibraltar. Platonically.”

“That’s cheating!”

“Is not. It counts as a date.” She moved to sit on his bed, thought better of it, and remained standing up. “Anyways, doubt your fans will like it if you don’t show. Or if you show up single.”

“Why would my fans care about my love life?” Octavio asked, getting to his feet, but he already knew the answer. He still remembered reading the article published after that one game, claiming he and Natalie had a thing in private. Which,  _ wrong, so very wrong _ , but he knew people were expecting this Valentine’s thing to either confirm or disperse those rumors.

“You couldn’t get a date anyways,” Ajay continued suddenly, and Octavio’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who would want to go with you?”

_ Bait. This is bait, Silva!! _

“Plenty of people want to go with me, amiga,” Octavio said anyways, which was not technically a lie. “You’d be surprised. As a matter of fact, I  _ do _ have a date already!”

Ajay’s arms were crossed, and she began tapping one of her fingers against her bicep, lips pressed together in a tight line. “Oh yeah? Who?”

“Since you so rudely assumed I don’t have a date, I’m not telling you.”

“You’re so full of shit, Silva,” Ajay said with half a laugh. “See you at the dance, all by yourself.”

“I have a date!” Octavio shouted after her as she left. “You’ll see!”

“Your right hand don’t count!” She called back.

“You know I’m left-handed!”

He watched her make her way down the stairs, and was about to slam his door shut when the room across from him opened and Crypto poked his head out, looking disgruntled, and asked, “What’s all the shouting for?”

Crypto was pretty cute, even if Octavio knew nothing about him, not even his name. Or age. Or if he was single or not. But that would make him an exciting date, and not a boring one! A mysterious hot hacker at his side? His fans would eat that shit up.

So, with complete confidence, Octavio asked, “Hey, Crypto, wanna go to the Valentine’s dance with me?”

“I’m not attending,” he replied, face scrunched up in mild disgust. “Popularity polls don’t matter to me.”

He then shut the door in Octavio’s face, leaving him alone in the hallway. Huh. Well, it had been worth a shot.

He was going to retreat back into his room and consider putting up a Craigslist ad for a date when a soft yet solid body crashed into him, and he gave a yelp, stumbling. He would have fallen to the floor had a hand not gripped his wrist, nearly pulling his shoulder out of its socket, but preventing him from face planting onto the ground.

“Watch where you’re going,” Octavio snapped crossly, shoulder aching, but his tone quickly changed when he saw who it was. “Hey, Elliott, wassup?”

The other man looked pretty tired, having worked the late shift at his bar on top of training today, but he worked up a smile when he looked at Octavio, which made a tingly feeling happen inside him.

“Hey,” Elliott said, leaning against the wall. His hair was immaculate as always, shiny and curly and combed to the left side of his face. “Just had a long day.”

“Yup,” Octavio said, rocking on his heels. He didn’t want to show up to the stupid dance thing by himself because he knew Ajay would constantly remind him about how he had lied, but he didn’t really want to ask Elliott. Well, he did, but he was afraid the other would say no, or that he already had a date. Getting turned down didn’t bother him that much, but when it was from someone he actually liked, it was a serious blow to his ego. “Do you have a date already?”

Elliott hung his head, shoulders slumping with a groan. “Nooo. And this girl at the bar threatened me, too.”

“Crazy fan?”

“Yeah. Crazy fan. So now I need a date, or else she might, like, kidnap me or whatever.” Elliott tipped his chin up, nodding towards Octavio. “What about you?”

“Nope! No date. I just lied to Ajay about getting one too.”

“Why don’t you just go with Ajay?” Elliott asked curiously. 

“She’s going with Makoa, platonically,  _ and _ she’s like my sister. I don’t need dating rumors with her.” He thought about it for a brief second, everyone assuming he and Ajay were dating, and shuddered. God, he couldn’t imagine it. Like, aside from the fact that he was gay, he considered Ajay his own family, more his family than his parents ever were, and dating her was a disgusting thought. She probably returned the sentiment too—no, scratch that, he definitely did.

(“Kiss me,” Octavio had said, age thirteen and going through his _ ‘am I a lesbian or trans’  _ phase.

“Ew,” Ajay responded, and she was out as bi, so it wasn’t like it was a matter of gender. 

“Why not?”

“‘Cause it’s  _ you _ .”

He supposed that made sense.)

“Huh,” Elliott hummed, still frowning. “Really? You can’t get a date?”

“Well, I haven’t tried,” Octavio said back. He leaned against the wall as well, trying to act casual as an idea suddenly struck him. “You can’t get one either, right?”

“I’ve been trying,” the other man admitted. “With. Uh. No luck.”

“Well,” Octavio began, fighting back a grin as his Absolutely Foolproof Plan came to mind, “If we don’t have dates by tomorrow night, why don’t we just go together?”

It was  _ perfect _ —he could play it off as a platonic thing like Ajay and Makoa, rub it in Ajay’s face that he  _ did _ have a date,  _ and _ get to spend the night with Elliott on top of all that. That is, if neither of them managed to find dates, and Octavio doubted his ability to land one. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even try. Off the top of his head, everyone else was either too boring, too scary, or just plain not an option.

(There was always a chance that handsome Elliott, charismatic, funny, pretty Elliott, would get a date. After all, there was always a gaggle of men and women hanging around his bar, hoping for their chance to meet him, and he had crowds of fans willing to go out with him.

But Octavio didn’t want to think about that.)

Elliott cocked an eyebrow at him, clearly dubious. He didn’t say anything for a while, but finally smiled wide, that pretty smile that made Octavio’s metal knees weak, and he said, “Yeah, right. If you don’t have a date by tomorrow, I’ll wear a dress. But sure. If neither of us get dates, let’s go together.”

They gave each other a fist-bump, and Octavio watched Elliott shuffle past and head up another flight of stairs, admiring how nice his ass looked in those jeans, before ducking back inside his room. He swept the mess off of his bed and onto the floor before collapsing onto it, a giddy smile on his face.

Hell yeah. A date with Elliott.

* * *

A date with Octavio...

It sounded nice. Elliott recently came to terms with his bisexuality, and had only dated one man before, but he wasn’t ashamed of it. Not really. He would, honestly, be more nervous taking a guy to this dance than he would be if he took a girl, but Octavio was cute, and funny, and knew how to party, so he wouldn’t mind.

(Even though he probably meant date, like, platonically...)

But Elliott knew it probably wasn’t going to happen for all of those exact reasons. 

Octavio was  _ popular. _ Everybody loved him, and granted, a lot of his fans were young kids and teens, but he was charismatic and a crowd favorite. He probably had girls lining up down the street for him, and getting a date shouldn’t be a problem at all. Even amongst fellow Legends, he was on good terms with nearly everybody. He could probably land platonic dates with Anita and Natalie if he asked.

So Elliott wasn’t going to get his hopes up, and was going to try really hard to get a date, because if he didn’t have one and Octavio did get one, he’d be by himself, and at risk of, like, getting kidnapped or something.

So the next morning, dressed in a nice pair of jeans and an even nicer shirt to make himself Extra Irresistible, he approached Anita, who was devouring oatmeal mixed with blueberries and raisins at an alarming rate, sat at a cafeteria table. He figured morning time would be the safest time to talk to her, because she was one of those “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” people and was less likely to punch him now than if he asked later.

So, leaning against the table and putting on his most charming smile, he began, “Hey, ‘Nita, wanna-”

“No,” she said, not even looking up from her news tablet.

“I didn’t even-”

“I’m going with Bloodhound.”

Elliott squinted. “Why?”

“Neither of us care about this sort of thing,” she said without much inflection. She paused from her oatmeal to take a large gulp of coffee. “We made a pact to go together to get Blisk off our backs, and that was it.”

Crap. Bloodhound had been his second choice—they got along (kind of) well, so he was going to ask them out if Anita said no. Which she did, and she was also going with Bloodhound, so right off the bat two of his four ideas for a date were shot down.

He excused himself from the table to avoid further embarrassment and wandered around the compound, occasionally running into lesser-known Apex competitors. He tried his hand at asking a few of them, but half of them hadn’t even been invited to the dance due to being less popular, and the ones who were invited had scrambled about for a date as soon as they received the invite, not wanting to look lame and single compared to their seniors.

Leaving behind a pair of guys sincerely sorry they already had dates, Elliott nearly ran right into Crypto, who stopped so abruptly that some of the coffee in his cup splashed out and dribbled over his fingers. Elliott was sure that, judging by the steam, it was scaldingly hot, but Crypto didn’t even visibly react.

“Watch where you’re going.” He paused, then added, “Idiot.”

“Sorry,” Elliott said, stepping out of his way. He watched Crypto make his way down the hall before remembering that Crypto had been his third choice for a date. “Hey, wait, wanna-”

“Octane already asked me,” Crypto said, back still turned.

Elliott deflated. “Did you say yes?”

“ _ No. _ Leave me alone.”

Okay.

Well.

It had been an hour since he’d woken up, and already, everything was falling apart. He had one more date idea before he would have to concede defeat. Wraith was his final option.

Sure, there were other people to go with, but they were either a sociopath (Caustic) a robot (Pathfinder) or like his little sister (Wattson). Maybe asking Wattson wouldn’t be so bad if it was a platonic thing, but he was pretty sure Caustic would, like, actually kill him.

Elliott spent a good amount of time searching for Wraith, but didn’t see her at all. He avoided Octavio like the plague every time he heard his shrill laughter echoing down the halls, because he didn’t want to hear that Octavio, young, pretty Octavio, had already scored a date with one of the many willing people who wanted to ask him out.

He was about to give up and take a break for some lunch when a portal opened up directly in front of him, and out stepped Wraith, with her eyebrows raised.

“Heard you were looking for me,” she said without greeting.

Elliott hadn’t told anyone he’d been looking for, so he suspected that her weird Voices thing told her. He wondered if they’d also told her why he was looking for her, and when he opened his mouth, she said,

“I’m going with Natalie.”

“Oh.” He blinked, and then tried to laugh it off. “Cool! Uhh, since when was _ that _ a thing?”

Wraith never blushed—instead, her face would get paler. This happened now, her face white against the swirling blue of the portal behind her.

“Since yesterday,” she said shortly.

“Well...have fun?”

“You don’t have a date, do you?”

_ Goddd I’m gonna sound so lame... _

“I do, in fact!” He said, and then his voice faltered. “...A back-up date.”

(In the form of Octavio, who probably, definitely had a date by now.)

“Right,” she said, and then punched him none-too-lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t embarrass us.”

“I would never.”

“That’s what you said during Halloween.”

“Say whatever you want about my cowboy costume, but I looked _ good _ .”

Rolling her eyes, Wraith disappeared back into her portal, and Elliott was left, all alone, and without a date.

Pathfinder walked over, a series of springy metallic noises accompanying his every move.

“I will be your date to the Valentine’s dance!” He offered cheerfully, his screen changing to a pair of heart eyes. Elliott cringed a little, taking a step away from him.

“Uhh...thanks, Path, but I’m good.”

“That’s okay! I can’t wait for all of us to celebrate, and have a good time!” His screen then changed to a disco. He raised one hand up and jutted a leg out, attempting to do an old-school disco move. Elliott left before he could pull it off, though he swore he could hear the metallic movements behind him even after he had rounded the corner.

Okay, so no date. This was fine! Maye Octavio didn’t have a date either! Maybe the night could be salvaged, and he  _ wouldn’t _ be kidnapped by a crazy lady he didn’t know tomorrow!

( _ Who are you kidding, Witt? You know he’s gonna have a date already. Why wouldn’t he? _ )

Elliott spent a good hour in the gym, trying to blow off steam and the mounting panic, but it wasn’t really working. He applied sports tape to his knuckles only to give a punching bag a few feeble jabs and quit. He started up on the treadmill but tripped on his untied shoelace, slamming his elbow into the wall when he tried to right himself. He finally decided to just give up when he dropped a dumbbell on his foot. He didn’t need injuries on top of everything else.

(Unless he could fake an injury, and spread the rumor everywhere, so people wouldn’t think he didn’t have a date—he just got hurt and had to skip the dance!)

(Blisk would find out.)

(Blisk always finds out.)

Maybe he should accept Pathfinder’s option...it could be bearable for an hour or so...then he can ditch him...

“Hola,” a voice said, slicing through his thoughts like a knife, and Elliott gave a high-pitched yelp that he tried passing off as a startled laugh.

“H-h-hey, Tav,” he stuttered, leaning against the wall with as much casual confidence as he could. This was a mistake—he had leaned against the elbow he hit earlier, and tingles went up and down his arm, numbing and uncomfortable. He still smiled, but visibly strained. “You got a date yet?”

The younger man smiled back, though much more genuinely. God, he had a nice smile. Crooked, yeah, and his lips were in desperate need of some chapstick, but it was still a nice smile. It did funny things to Elliott’s chest. Funny things that hurt when he knew Octavio must have a date already.

“Nope,” Octavio said, distracting him from his downwards spiral and self-deprecation. “No date.”

“What,” Elliott said.

“No date!” Octavio repeated, and gave a shrug. “Guess we’re gonna have to go together, compadre.”

_ Oh thank god.  _

“That s-sucks,” Elliott said, still stammering, and doing his best to sound sympathetic, even though his heart was soaring. “Well...guess we’re going together, huh?”

Octavio grinned wide at that, wolfish almost. “What was that you said about a dress?”

Feeling his face flush, Elliott stammered some more, because he had really thought Octavio would have a date already, and god did they even make dresses in his size, how he could get one by tonight, did he really have to wear one and everyone was going to laugh at him and—

“Dude, chill,” Octavio said, putting his hand on Elliott’s arm. “Speaking from experience, dresses suck. I wouldn’t make you wear one. Even though I think it would make your ass look great.”

“...Thanks?”  _ Did he just say he likes my ass?  _ Taking a deep breath and getting his cool under control, Elliott said, “So, tonight, we’ll meet up?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Okay! Great. That sounds great!” Feeling like he was embarrassing himself, he waved goodbye to Octavio, who sped off to go do whatever it is he did. Once he was out of sight, he let out a sigh of relief, glad that he now had a date, and a date with Octavio at that.  _ The  _ Octavio. And now he wouldn’t get stalked! Hopefully. He didn’t know what Laurel was capable of, but he hoped she would leave him alone once she got the idea that he had a boyfriend...even if he didn’t really.

...Maybe he could convince Octavio to fake-date him until it blew over?...It was worth a shot.

_ That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen, _ a voice inside his head said.

_ Shut up, me,  _ he thought back.

* * *

Fuck yeah, Octavio had a date, and it was with Elliott fucking Witt, who also happened to be like, the hottest guy on Solace. Or third hottest, anyways—but the fact that he was even in the top three would surely generate a good amount of buzz. Two birds with one stone—a boost in popularity (and therefore money), and a date with the man he had been interested in for some time now.

Pacing in his room and texting rapidly on his phone, he was just bragging to Anita about his date (and pointedly ignoring her disinterested ‘k’ after every message he sent) when his door flew open, and Ajay waltzed inside like she owned the place.

“Pickin’ clothes out for your date?” She asked conversationally. Barely glancing up, Octavio said,

“Yep.”

“And who’s your date, again?”

Feeling triumphant that he had one and wanting to rub it in her face, he said, “Elliott.”

“That’s funny,” Ajay said, and he felt a sudden sense of foreboding at the tone of her voice. “‘Cause I found out from ‘Nita and Wraith that Elliott’s been asking around for a date all day.”

“So..?”

“Which means you didn’t have one last night, when you told me you _ did. _ ” She scowled. “You lied to me again!”

“Okay, fine, I did,” Octavio admitted. He didn’t want her to get angry and ruin his night, so he said, “I was planning on asking him out anyways, and I didn’t tell you ‘cuz I didn’t want you to pity me if he said no.”

Ajay was well aware of his (stupid) crush on Elliott, and at those words she sighed, folding her arms over her chest and fixing him with a look. “...Well, what’re you gonna wear?”

He looked down at his clothes—a band tee he had ripped at the bellybutton to make a crop-top, and jean shorts splattered with paint. “This?”

“No, you’re not,” Ajay said, and kicked his door shut, crossing the room to his closet. She opened the door and snubbed her nose at the clothes piled haphazardly inside. Half of his closet was also in a large pile of dirty clothes next to his bed, but he was sure she wouldn’t approve of any of those clothes anyway. She grabbed at the sleeve of a shirt poking out of the pile and yanked it out, causing the pile to collapse everywhere, but now holding a wrinkly white button-up.

“Wear this,” she told him, tossing it to him. Face scrunching up in disgust, he held it out before him, not sure why he even owned it in the first place. 

“But-”

“Silva,” Ajay said, not even looking over her shoulder as she went through his clothes. “You know Elliott is gonna show up all dolled up. I refuse to let you look like garbage next to him.”

He supposed that was true, but this sucked. He valued his own comfort over anything else, and showing up in this long-sleeved _ thing _ was gonna suck. Unless...

When Ajay tossed him a pair of jeans that he also didn’t know why he owned, he ushered her out of the room, fully intent on dressing up his way. He would cut the shirt in half, rip off the sleeves, and convert the jeans to jorts. He was a fucking genius. Plus, it gave him something to do for the next...glancing at the clock, there were four hours left until the dance started. Four hours of boredom and antsiness. Great.

He did everything quickly, resulting in jagged edges and somewhat sloppy work, but it was just about what he wanted. Tugging his binder on, he slipped the button-up-turned-crop-top over it and adjusted it to make sure nobody could see it when he lifted his arms. Okay, perfect. 

Once he was finished getting dressed, he still had two hours to spare. Ugh, fuck this.

He imagined how Elliott would look tonight—even if he didn’t like suits himself, he could appreciate a man in one. Especially a man like Elliott, with his strong chest and thighs and ass and—

_ Keep it in your pants, Silva. _

He left his room to go bug whoever he came across first—spent a good thirty minutes walking circles around Crypto, who was reading a book and sipping from a cup of coffee contently in the common room, not at all pressed about the dance tonight because he wasn’t going. Spent another thirty minutes hounding Anita, who was apparently going with Bloodhound, which was a weird match-up, but hey, he wasn’t going to judge. 

“Silva,” she finally told him, annoyed by his constant chattering. “Why don’t you go bug Mirage. Or someone else who  _ gives  _ a shit.”

“But it’s fun annoying you, specifically,” Octavio said.

When she raised her hand threateningly, he darted off, fully intent on finding someone else’s nerves to grate on, when he ran right into Elliott for the second time in two days, and wow, he looked hot. Beard immaculate, hair styled as perfectly as always, suit black and crisp. He smelled a lot like cologne, but not the expensive kind that his dad wore. It smelled cheap, and he was endeared by it.

“Whoa,” Elliott said, running his hand down the front of his suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. “You look...nice.”

“Gracias,” Octavio said, stomach flip-flopping like a fish. He tried to think of a compliment that wasn’t just an echo of Elliott’s, but before he could, Elliott smiled at him, and it made him freeze. God why did he make him feel this way. Why was he being so gay. What the fuck.

“Alright, Legends,” Blisk’s voice rang out, and everyone looked up (save Crypto, who just took another sip from his coffee, not even sparing him a glance). “Head out to the cars. You’re taking limousines to the venue.”

Some people complained about this, many wary that they would get stuck in a car with Caustic, who was attending, for some godforsaken reason, but before he could step forward Elliott offered his arm in what was intended as a gentlemanly manner, but came across as dorky. Laughing in his face, Octavio hooked his arm with his, amused by the gesture, and walked out to the cars with him, still antsy.

Ajay spotted him, and also his outfit. She sliced her finger across her neck, code for _ ‘I’m going to kill you later.’  _ Gibraltar, right next to her, looked at him and laughed loudly, greatly amused. He was glad at least  _ someone _ appreciated his outfit.

He highly doubted people would be paying attention to it when they got to the place—they would be too busy enraptured by the man by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this has been sitting in my docs since before valentine's day. to be frank ive lost complete interest in miroctane so i wrapped this up quickly and posted it cuz even if it feels incomplete i am also not letting over 5k words of work rot. i almost felt bad that i didn't give this a proper ending but also i do what i want and now i am free of this burden
> 
> hope u enjoyed! bye

**Author's Note:**

> so this has been sitting in my docs since before valentine's day. to be frank ive lost complete interest in miroctane so i wrapped this up quickly and posted it cuz even if its incomplete i am also not letting almost 6k words of work rot. i almost felt bad that i didn't give this a proper ending but also i do what i want and now i am free of this burden
> 
> hope u enjoyed! bye


End file.
